Chapter 47

Jake did indeed meet them at the front door of the Chateau the next morning. He nodded a greeting and then handed Michaela a telegram, saying, "Horace thought you'd want ta see this soon as possible."

Michaela hurriedly tore the envelope open and pored over the lengthy missive from Miriam. At last she looked up at Sully. "She can't come here for Adrian's funeral," she said soberly. "Rachel has come down with measles ... and Robert's attending a medical conference. She wants me to write to her soon ... telling her everything about what's gone on and whether they've found the person who killed him ..."

Sully nodded and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "We can do that Michaela," he said quietly. "Together ..."

She gave him a wan smile. "It won't be easy ... I only hope she'll understand ..."

"We just gotta be honest ... the rest's gonna be up to her ..."

She nodded, folded the telegram and put it into her medical bag, then returned her gaze to Jake.

Realising he now had their attention, he indicated they should follow him and entered the dimly lit lobby.

Ever since Matthew's cryptic message the evening before, Michaela had been racking her brain, trying to think what might have been discovered out here. At last she'd remembered the pencil drawing of her hanging in Adrian's office and had instantly told Sully of it. He'd tensed and then taken a deep, calming breath and they'd consoled themselves that the man was gone and such things mattered little any more. Later Sully had remarked on how strange it was he hadn't noticed the drawing when he was in the office talking to Tilson, but they'd both finally decided he was probably too angry at the time to notice anything much. So it was with some surprise that Jake strode passed the manager's office and continued on to the back of the hotel. Michaela and Sully exchanged baffled looks and followed him. At last, at the end of a long corridor, Jake stopped in front of a door marked 'Private', inserted a key and entered, beckoning them to follow.

Inside was a small, but opulently furnished sitting room from which two further doors led into a bathroom and a bedroom. "This is Tilson's quarters," Jake informed them. "We came out here yesterday lookin' for clues .. seein' as how we weren't gittin' anywhere with our inquiries ..." He nodded towards the bedroom. "What we thought ya should see is in there ..."

Michaela shuddered. Although the man was dead, entering his bedroom gave her the chills. Sully grasped her hand and they slowly walked across to the doorway. Inside, everything was in relative order, although it was obvious the place had been searched. At the foot of the bed, stood a large trunk, its lid up, a number of items of apparel on the floor beside it. Sully turned to Jake, "What'd ya want us to look at?" he asked, aware of Michaela's tense grasp on his hand.

Jake walked up behind them, and then nodded toward the trunk. "Have a look inside," he said quietly. "I'll wait out here for ya ..."

Again the couple exchanged puzzled looks, then Sully stepped into the room and Michaela reluctantly followed. As if it had a bad smell, Sully peered down into the trunk and then quickly stooped to withdraw the framed, pencil drawing he and Michaela had discussed the evening before. "It aint bad," he remarked, examining it closely.

Michaela stepped a little closer and then said, "I wonder why its in here ..."

Sully gave her a rueful look. "Bet he put it in his office just for the day you were gonna be there ... he'd o' known the staff'd talk if they found a picture of you on his wall ..."

"I never thought of that," acknowledged Michaela. "That accounts for the fact that you didn't see it when you spoke with him ..."

"Argued with him ya mean," rejoined Sully wryly.

"Put it back and lets get out of here Sully," requested Michaela with a shiver. "This is the last place I want to spend a beautiful summer's day ..."

He nodded and bent to place the picture back in the trunk. It was then that something else caught his attention. Michaela, already heading towards the door, was halted by a sudden tightening of his grasp on her hand. She spun around and he said quietly, "Maybe ya oughta take a look after all Michaela." He bent down and pulled out another picture, this time one of her with Miriam, taken many years before, while they were still in medical college. He handed it to her and then knelt down by the trunk. Michaela, lost in thought as she gazed at the carefree moment in time, was surprised when something else was pressed into her hands. It was a copy of her graduation photograph, identical to the one she'd had to burn some years back when trying to eradicate an infection emanating from the clinic.

"Oh God Sully," she said softly, sinking to her knees beside him. "How did he get this?"

"Wouldn't o' bin hard ... photographer would o' kept the plates for a while ..."

"I suppose," she said wonderingly.

"That aint all," Sully went on, withdrawing from the trunk another, larger, framed article. "What about this?"

Michaela gasped when she saw the contents. Not a photograph this time, it was a copy of her medical degree, something else she'd had to burn along with the graduation photograph. Tears sprang to her eyes. "I don't understand it Sully ... how would he get this ... and why?"

"I dunno Michaela," replied Sully, just as mystified as she. "I guess he could o' written to the college pretendin' to be you an' got a new one ... or maybe he told 'em he was your husband ..."

She shuddered at the thought. "But why? Why would he do all this?" she pondered.

"Maybe collectin' things like this made him feel closer to ya," he suggested seriously. Again he delved into the bottom of the trunk, this time withdrawing a yellowed newspaper article and a packet of letters. He unfolded the flimsy newspaper to discover another graduation photograph along with a list of the graduates' names.

"I've got one of those at home somewhere," said Michaela. "Miriam sent it to me after I'd returned to Boston ... its from the Philadelphia Mail."

Sully nodded, put it aside and turned his attention to the letters.

Michaela glanced across and immediately said anxiously, "That's Miriam's handwriting ... they're private Sully ... we don't need to look at those ..."

His eyes narrowed. "He's kept 'em with this other stuff for a reason Michaela ... an' look at the dates of 'em ... some go back years ..." Despite her deep intake of breath, he unfolded the first letter. He scanned it quickly and then handed it to her. "Seems he was tryin' ta keep track o' you via Miriam ...," he said quietly, opening one letter after another. All in all there were some twelve letters, mostly from a ten month period immediately following her graduation from medical college.

At last Michaela said, "Miriam mentioned he used to badger her for information ... until she eventually stopped giving it ... He virtually ceased writing after that ..."

He nodded and then after scanning the last one, snorted with disgust and handed it to her. "Now we know how he found out you were livin' here ... this one's a lot later 'an the others ... She wrote it just after she went back to San Francisco after visitin' us here ..."

"She couldn't know he still wondered about me?" Michaela murmured defensively.

"Course she couldn'," he returned instantly. "I know she felt bad about it when we spoke in San Francisco .."

As Michaela read that last letter, Sully again reached into the trunk, withdrawing an odd assortment of items. "What about these Michaela? They mean anythin' to ya?" He spread them on the floor for her to see.

"Oh Sully," she sighed, very close to tears. She picked up a small, embossed booklet and opened it to show him. "This is my dance card ... from a cotillion at Robert's home." She picked up a folded place card. "I don't remember where this same from ... probably one of the socials where Adrian turned up unexpectedly ... he was always doing that ..." She reached for a delicate, lace glove. "Rebecca gave me these for my birthday ... I lost this one at Miriam's and Robert's engagement party ... I searched everywhere for it ... Adrian helped me." Her breath caught on the last.

"An' he had it all along," concluded Sully.

She nodded and picked up a book. "I gave this to Miriam for her birthday in our last year at medical college ... I wrote inside ... see?" She flicked it open to show him her handwritten inscription, "For my dear friend on her birthday, love Michaela."

He pulled her close as her tears threatened to spill over.

"Why did he do this Sully?" she implored. "I ... I ... don't understand!"

"I don't understand either Michaela ... The man weren't sane ... we're never gonna understand why he did what he did ..."

She again turned her attention to the assortment of memorabilia on the floor. "This is a program from the opera we all attended when Miriam and Robert were courting ... and this is another place card," she detailed. "My God ... these are notes I took at the library ... and this is an invitation I received to another social .. How could he get these things?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I don' know ... but likely it weren't honest ... just like he was gettin' inta the clinic here without ya knowin' how .."

He again peered into the trunk and pulled out a telegram. A quick glance caused him to shake his head in dismay. "This accounts for how he knew we were in San Francisco ...," he informed her with disgust, handing her the telegram he'd sent to the family upon their arrival in the Californian city.

"But ..... he'd have to have ... have stolen this ... before the children even saw it," she exclaimed in disgust. "There's no way any of them would have left it lying around."

Sully again shrugged his shoulders and cast her a wry look, then turned his attention back to the trunk. There was one final article laying face down on the bottom. He picked it up and as he pulled it out, flipped it over. Michaela gasped and paled, then abruptly clambered to her feet. She backed away and began to pace agitatedly. "It was him Sully," she muttered with despair. "It was him! .... How could he? And why did he have to do that!" Her eyes brimming with renewed tears, she took a deep breath. "I ... I ... can't stay here any longer ... I'm going back to the clinic ... please ... you talk to Jake ..." With that, she turned on her heels and rushed from the room.

Sully frowned as he watched her disappear, then further examined the defiled object in his hand, before also standing. He looked up to see Jake hovering in the doorway.

"Sorry about that ... knew she'd probably be upset ... but we figured she hadta see it all," the mayor explained soberly.

Sully acknowledged his apology with a nod and then motioned towards the pile of articles spread on the floor. "Whatdya want me to do with all this?" he asked.

"We'll put it back in the trunk for now," rejoined Jake. "But if ya want any o' it?"

Sully began to shake his head and then stopped. "Maybe she will ... later ... especially a coupla o' the things ...," he mused.

"Thought ya might say that ..."

"So you'll take care o' 'em?"

Jake nodded and then stepped into the room to assist Sully tidy up. After a moment, he offered, "Strange character this Tilson huh?"

"Uh huh ..."

"Dr Mike was real upset ... an' angry."

"She's got a right ta be ... this fella's done things ... like this." Sully swept his hands across the assortment of letters and objects. "An' I bet he never once realised the harm he was doin' ..."

Jake nodded. "You wanna go after Dr Mike? ... I can finish up here ...," he volunteered.

"I'll go in a minute ... figure she needs some time to herself," rejoined Sully, placing the last of the articles back into the trunk. He stood and then said pensively, "Hey Jake ... you got Tilson's key ring?"

"Sure ... used it ta git in here," answered the mayor.

"Can I take a look?"

"Yeah," he agreed, taking the small bunch of keys from his pocket and handing them to Sully. "Want ya want with 'em?"

Sully regarded the collection of keys. "Tilson was gittin' into the clinic ... when Michaela weren't there," he replied thoughtfully.

"He was?" exclaimed Jake with surprise.

"Uh huh ... she took ta lockin' everythin' ... but he still got in ..."

"He ever take anythin'? Do any damage?"

Sully shook his head. "No ... not unless ya count leavin' unwanted gifts behind ... like roses ..."

Jake's eyebrows shot up. "Dr Mike never mentioned that!"

"She feels kinda bad about it Jake ... embarrassed really ...Here he was givin' her presents ... presents she didn' want ... an' she couldn' stop him ... Eventually she collected them together an' sent 'em back to him ..."

"An' he stopped?"

"Yeah ... well, leavin' her roses anyway ..."

Jake shook his head. "If anyone ever did somethin' like this to Teresa ...."

"Now ya know why I wanted ta do more 'an just split his lip the other day Jake," remarked Sully wryly. "But I didn'," he added hastily.

"Couldn' blame ya if ya did," mused Jake. "Is the key you're lookin' for there?" he asked, as Sully shuffled through the keys.

"There's a couple here could be the ones ... Any objections to me takin' 'em inta town an' testin' 'em out?"

Jake shook his head. "No problem ... I'll collect 'em when I come back ta town ... I wanna speak to a couple more folks here ..."

Sully placed the keys in his pocket and then slapped the man's back good-naturedly. "Thanks ... Figure I better git after Michaela ... hope she aint worked herself up too much ..."

Jake indicated the trunk. "Some o' the things in there would o' upset anyone ..."

Sully nodded. "I'll git goin' then ... see ya in town."

*********************
Sully slid from his horse and then tethered it at a low hanging branch. He took a deep breath and set off along the narrow trail that linked the Chateau road to the stream. When he'd noticed the fresh tracks leaving the road and heading for the woods, he'd instinctively known they were Michaela's. This was one way they were so alike. When they were troubled they headed for the solitude of the woods. He walked quietly forward. He could hear her up ahead. She wasn't crying out or cursing (despite the situation he almost smiled at that thought), but there were several angry thumps and sounds of objects hitting the water with a splash. She came into view and he paused for a moment. She was pacing back and forward in a clearing, kicking out at whatever lay in her path. Stones flew from her boot and thwacked against tree trunks, twigs snapped as her boots crushed them and low branches swung back and forth in response to her blows. Occasionally she would pick up a stone from the ground and hurl it angrily into the stream so that its resultant ever-widening circles hit the bank in miniature waves. He gulped. He'd only seen her anything like this once before. He took one hesitant step closer.

She was so angry her head was throbbing and her heart pounding as if it would explode out of her chest. How dare the man! How dare he invade her life as he had! She picked up a large, rough stone and weighed it in her hand for a moment before hurling it full force in the direction of the stream. It hit the opposite bank with a thud and then bounced downwards until it broke the surface of the water with a discordant splash. She brought her hands to her aching head and bit her lip, fighting the tears that threatened to overcome her. She spun around and out of the corner of her eye spied Sully, watching. She took a deep angry breath. "How long have you been standing there?" she demanded.

"Long enough," was his simple reply.

"Well go away," she ordered. "Leave me alone ..."

He began to walk slowly towards her.

"I said go away Sully!" she exclaimed irately.

"Not this time," he said quietly. "Talk to me about it huh?"

She took a deep, angry breath. "I don't want to talk about it," she insisted petulantly. "He ... he ... how dare he!"

Stepping close, he reached out to cup her cheek. "How dare he?" he prompted.

"How dare he ... he ..." Her face crumpled. "He broke into our house Sully," she sobbed.

"Yeah he did," he agreed, drawing her close. "Makes me angry too ..."

"You don't sound angry ..."

"Well I am ... but there aint nothin' we can do about it now ..."

"I'll ... I'll remember ... every time I use the side door," she sobbed irrationally.

"Nah ya won't," he consoled. "We've had other intruders ... fellas who've disrupted our lives for a short while ... remember the Currier brothers an' even Sergeant O'Connor ... but they don' stay ... they aint part o' what makes our home ... neither's Tilson ..."

She slumped against Sully's chest. "I can't believe he did that," she cried, her distressed breathing quietening a little.

"That aint really what's got ya so upset .. is it Michaela?" he said softly against her ear. He felt her take a deep breath and then shake her head.

"It's the photograph aint it?"

She nodded.

He bit his lip and then, determined to reassure her, said, "Its done now ... aint nothin' we can do about it ..."

She peered up at him, her eyes shimmering. "Our wedding photograph Sully ... Why did he do that?" she implored, recalling him holding the once beautiful picture of the two of them on their wedding day, now neatly severed so that only the image of her remained.

"Guess I don' ... didn' ... count too much with him," he returned with a wan smile.

"I can't believe we didn't notice it was missing," she mused wretchedly. "Its always stood there on the shelf ... ever since we moved in ..."

"Maybe that was the problem ... we were so used ta it bein' there ... we didn' look ... an' we've bin busy since we got back from San Francisco ..."

She nodded and then sobbed quietly, "I loved that photograph Sully ... just you and I ... in a time I'll never forget ..."

"I'll never forget either ... best day o' my life ... maybe we don' need a photograph ta remember it ... Besides ... we got the big picture o' everyone ..."

"I suppose," she conceded guardedly. She looked up at him. "You don't think the photographer would still have the plates?" she asked hopefully.

He shook his head. "I doubt it ... heard they don' last long ...an' it has been more 'an four years now ...," he replied wistfully.

She wrapped her arms around his waist. "I'll ... I'll ... never feel the same about those pictures now ... I'll always see that one in the trunk ... with you missing ... I don't want to remember it like that ..."

"You won't ... We'll set the other weddin' one up in the same place ... It shows everyone so happy ... you an' me especially ..." He lovingly kissed the top of her head. "That picture was the closest Tilson was ever gonna git ta seein' you in a weddin' dress ... I almost feel sorry for him ...," he said softly.

"I don't," said Michaela quietly. "Not after what he's done ... and I don't mean just to me ..."

Again he kissed her and caressed her back comfortingly. "You ready ta head back ta town now?" he asked.

She took a deep breath and then shook her head. "Sit here with me for a minute?" she implored softly.

He nodded and then drew her down and into his arms. She nestled in against his chest, like a child who's been hurt, and he held her protectively close. He could feel the tension gradually leaving her body, but she still clung to him. At last she said softly, her breath warm against his skin, "I feel like ... well ... like he's invaded my privacy ... You know how I crave it ... you've always respected it ... Its hard enough being a doctor and a wife and a mother, without someone doing what's he's done ... and when he decided to trespass in our home ... touch our things ... spoil something precious ..."

He rocked her gently and kissed her temple. "Yeah .. I know Michaela ... but he aint gonna do it no more ... Besides, the photograph aint what was so precious ... this is the important thing ... you an' me ... together," consoled Sully. "Aint that right?" She nodded and then lifted her eyes to his. He lowered his head and kissed her lovingly, not deeply, or even arousingly, but with his whole heart and body and soul. At last he murmured, "He don' matter no more Michaela ... he don' matter at all ..."

She dropped her head to his shoulder and sighed. "I love you Byron Sully," she said softly and sincerely. "More than I could ever put into words ..."

He kissed her adoringly once more and they continued to sit quietly in each other's arms by the stream, as the sun rose slowly to its zenith in the clear, blue, summer sky.

Chapter 48

It was a solemn group that sat around a couple of tables in Grace's Café. From the darkness of their apparel to the glumness of their expressions, it was obvious that the group was collectively feeling less than pleased with current events. Adrian's funeral ceremony, conducted by the Reverend Timothy Johnson, had been simple and strangely lacking in emotion. This small group who'd attended had done so almost reluctantly, though it could probably be said for a variety of reasons.

"Guess me an' Josiah should be headin' back to the Chateau," Myra remarked to no-one in particular. "Charlie's bin lookin' after the desk all mornin' ... he'll be wonderin' where we are ..." She paused, and then directed her gaze to Michaela. "Dr Mike ... whatdya think Senator Dinston'll do now ... about a new manager? Me an' Josiah an' Charlie've bin wonderin' about our jobs ..." She lowered her head embarrassedly. "Don' get me wrong," she murmured. "Mr Tilson was a good boss .. but ...."

Michaela reached over to lay her hand over the younger woman's. "I'm sure you have nothing to worry about Myra ... Senator Dinston will see you've all been doing a fine job ..."

"I hope so," Myra rejoined. "Samantha's so lookin' forward ta startin' school here in the fall ... If we hadta move on ..."

"You'll be fine," Michaela reiterated. "I'm sure of it ..."

Myra nodded gratefully and stood, followed by young Josiah. She nodded a farewell to the majority of those seated at the tables, then called out, "Bye Grace ... thanks for the lunch." She smiled sweetly at Hank, and then she and Josiah moved off toward the livery.

There was quiet at the tables for a short while after they'd gone, until Dorothy asked with concern, "You heard from your friend Miriam Michaela?"

She nodded and sighed. "Yes ... she wired to say she couldn't come here for the funeral. Sully and I wrote to her last night ... it was one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do ... trying to decide what should go in the letter ... and how to put it ..."

Dorothy laid her hand comfortingly on her friend's arm. "I'm sure you did a good job with it ... Were Miriam an' her brother close?"

"I ... I ... I'm not sure ... I don't think so ...," replied Michaela hesitantly. "But I don't think anything could ever prepare you for hearing that your brother has been murdered ... whether you're estranged or not ..."

Dorothy nodded sympathetically and then turned to the mayor. "You turned up anythin' new about that Jake?" she asked. "Anythin' ta lead you to who killed him?"

Jake shook his head. "Nah ... keep hittin' dead ends ... Wish someone could remember the coupla drifters Hank mentioned ... We asked around ... an' we got descriptions alright ... *all* different," he muttered with disgust. "One fella mentioned a big man with a black moustache, another talked about a tall, skinny fella with a scar on his cheek ... an' another said there was a little fella with a big black hat ... I don' know if they're makin' it up ... or if these fellas really exist ..."

Grace, standing behind Jake with a coffee pot in her hand, chuckled. "Seems ta me drink can make a man see an' remember anythin' he wants ... surprised ya aint heard about the yellow haired indian ... or the giant negro," she quipped. "Sounds like these fellas ... if they did it ... have got clear away."

Jake conceded her sentiment with a nod and a sigh. "All I can say is that everyone here in town has an alibi," he said with a wry smile. "Me an' Matthew've talked to so many folks ... even the guests out at the Chateau ... an' we've learned a lot about this fella ... some o' it would probably surprise ya ... but we aint found anyone who could o' done it ..."

"Well I must admit I'm relieved it weren't someone we know who killed him," said Dorothy, sweeping her eyes around the table. "Mr Tilson was a man who kept to himself ... I don't think any o' us could've called him a friend ... I'm sorry he died like he did ... but I'm sure glad it weren't one o' us who did it ..."

"Me an' Matthew are gonna finish writin' up our report to the marshall's office in Denver tomorra ... an' then hopefully that'll be it," stated Jake.

There were nods of agreement around the table. "An' then we can turn our minds to your weddin' Matthew ... in less 'an a week you'll be a married man," announced Dorothy, determined to lighten the atmosphere. "This town needs somethin' happy like a weddin' after what's gone on lately ..."

To the accompaniment of soft chuckles and at last some smiles, Matthew reddened and lowered his eyes embarrassedly to the tabletop. Despite disliking being the centre of attention, he clasped Kathleen's hand lovingly and briefly brought it to his lips.

Michaela, observing her son's discomfiture with indulgence, was startled to feel a gentle tap on her shoulder. She swivelled around to see Hank standing behind her. "Can I see ya for a minute Michaela?" he asked. "In private ..."

She immediately stood. "Of course," she replied, following him across the café grounds to the railings which separated the café from the road. He leant nonchalantly back against them and put his lit cigar to his lips. Eventually, his eyes fixed on the sombrely clad group at the tables, he remarked offhandedly, "Didn' really expect ya to go to his funeral Michaela."

She tensed, as she so often did in Hank's presence when she was unsure whether or not she was being teased, and retorted, "I didn't see *you* there!"

"Didn' like the man ... hardly knew him ... but what I knew I didn' like," rejoined Hank matter-of-factly. "I was just surprised after everythin' he's done, that *you* went."

Deciding to take him seriously, she replied, "Actually I went for Miriam ... not for myself ..."

"Wouldn'a bin easy ..."

She lowered her eyes. "No .. no .. it wasn't ..." She swallowed and then raising her eyes again to meet his, asked with concern, "How's Myrna?"

"She aint too bad ... the swellin's goin' down ... She's still a bit teary though ... an' hates havin' ta hide out in her room ...," he replied. Then added in his usual way, "She aint much good ta me like this neither ..."

"Hank!" exclaimed Michaela, looking suitably shocked until she caught the teasing sparkle in his eye. She smiled wryly at being caught again, then asked, "Has she packed?"

"Uh huh ... turns out she's got an aunt in Kansas ... if her face aint too bad she's leavin' on tomorrow's train ..."

Michaela nodded and then reached into her pocket to withdraw a small wad of bills. "I ... I was hoping to see you before she went ... will you give her this? ... it should help until she can find some work ..."

He held up his hand, waving the money away. "That aint necessary Michaela ... I'll set her up right ..."

"But I feel responsible ... please," she implored, again holding the money out towards him. His eyes narrowed and then with a shrug, he took it and tucked it into the pocket of his trousers. "Does she have some decent clothes?" she added. "I might be able to find her some things ..."

Hank shook his head. "She's fine Michaela ... I told her ta go shoppin' in Denver ..."

Michaela nodded, knowing better than to offer again. "I hope she'll be alright ... she's been through something terrible ... and from things she told me earlier ... well ... her whole life has been pretty miserable," she remarked with compassion.

"She'll be alright ...," he assured her. "Besides ... I told her ... if she wants ... in a few months she can come back ... Said just ta wire me an' I'd send her the fare ..." Michaela's lips pursed and she tensed. He shook his head. "I know ... I know ... not necessarily as one o' my girls ... that alright with you?" he inquired dryly.

She gave him a wry smile and nodded. "What about Berta?" she asked suddenly. "I'm surprised Matthew and Jake haven't questioned her. She was so traumatised, I had a feeling she'd let slip about Myrna meeting Adrian after the hotel closed."

Hank grinned. "Aint ya noticed she's missin'?" he teased. "She's bin stayin' in a hotel in Denver ever since it happened. Wired a coupla ladies I know up there ... they're takin' good care o' her ... at my expense ... Come ta think o' it this whole business is costin' me plenty ..."

"Its cost all of us more than it ever should," commented Michaela pensively. She again raised her eyes to meet his. "Tell me something?" she asked ingenuously. He nodded warily, so she said, "Why didn't you do something about Adrian when he first hurt Myrna? In the past you would have thrown him out on his ear ... and you'd have relished banishing the manager of a rival hotel ..." He abruptly turned away from her, obviously discomfited. "Hank?" she asked again.

Looking sheepish, he turned back and finally answered, "The fact he was the manager of the Chateau was the problem?"

She frowned. "Why?" she queried, now very puzzled.

His eyes drifted back to the tables where some of the townspeople still sat. "Myra had just started workin' for him," he said quietly.

She was still puzzled. "And?" she prompted.

"Well ... he knew me an' her were friends ... good friends ... I bin spendin' a lot o' time out there ... I figured he might take it out on Myra ..."

"But he wouldn't!" exclaimed Michaela, and then her face clouded.

Catching the look, he raised his eyebrows and nodded. "If he's the sorta fella thinks nothin' o' hurting a woman ..."

"He might also have thought nothing of firing Myra ... or perhaps something worse ... because she's your friend," concluded Michaela resignedly.

"Uh huh ..."

Michaela shook her head. "He really does have a lot to answer for doesn't he?" she mused softly.

"Well it aint gonna be here on earth he does the answering ... but then maybe he already done it ... got what was comin' to him ...," suggested Hank. "He's gone ... that's the main thing ... he aint gonna be hurtin' people no more ... not Myrna ... nor you ... or even Myra ..."

Michaela turned to lean on the railing beside him. "I was so angry at him," she said softly. "He had no right to do some of the things he did ..." She swallowed. "You know Sully discovered he had a key to the clinic ..."

"He did!" exclaimed Hank indignantly. "How'd he git that?"

"We talked about it last night at home ... the whole family ..," replied Michaela. "Andrew remembered misplacing his key for a couple of days several months ago, possibly even before I started back at work ... He eventually found it hidden under some paperwork on his desk at the Chateau clinic ..."

"An' you think Tilson stole it ta copy?" Michaela nodded and he snorted with disgust. "He ever git in? ... do anythin' he shouldn'a?" he demanded angrily.

"Oh he used to get in ... regularly," replied Michaela quietly. "He'd leave roses on my desk while I was out ..."

Hank shook his head wonderingly. "No wonder he made ya nervous ...," he offered quietly. "The man weren't thinkin' straight ... You're a married woman ..."

Michaela smiled to herself and then said, "That didn't seem to matter to Adrian ..."

Hank reached up to run his fingers agitatedly through his long curly hair. "Speakin' o' which," he said quietly. "I wanted ta say ... well ... I aint too good at this ... but ... well ... I figure I owe ya an apology ..."

Michaela's brow creased in bafflement, and she said, "You do!"

"Uh huh ... I didn' know what this fella was doin' to ya ... but if I *had* done somethin' about him ... things mightn'a got so out o' hand ..."

Michaela shook her head. "No Hank ... you *didn't* know what he was doing to me ... I'll admit I was angry that you did nothing ... for Myrna's sake ... but I don't hold you responsible for what happened ... I guess we were all keeping things to ourselves ... for different reasons ... me as much as you ..."

"He never ... I mean ... he didn' ...," he hemmed and hawed. He suddenly kicked his heel back against the fencepost angrily. "Oh heck ... he never really hurt ya ... did he?"

Michaela hastened to reassure him. "No ... of course not ... the closest he ever got was the day you intervened ... oh ... and my fall from Flash ..."

Hank nodded resignedly and then sighed with relief, causing Michaela to smile again. She never would understand this man! "Well I'm just glad its all over ... now we can all get on with our lives ... I've felt like there was a shadow hanging over me ... but now its finally lifted ...," she said quietly.

Hank nodded. "Talkin' about gittin' on with our lives ... I bin meanin' ta talk with Sully ..."

"Oh?"

He suddenly looked disconcerted. "I was thinkin' ... well ... maybe its time I built myself a house ... won't be livin' in the Nugget forever ..."

Her eyebrows rose. "That's why you've been helping Matthew ... isn't it?" she quizzed astutely.

He nodded. "Figured maybe if I helped 'em ... they'd help me with my place ... nothin' fancy like yours ... no second storey or nothin' ... just a coupla rooms ... an' a nice wide porch along the front ..."

Michaela regarded him quizzically. This didn't sound like Hank at all. "And you think you might like to live in such a place hmmm Hank? And where were you thinking of building this house of yours?"

He shrugged his shoulders and blew a perfect smoke ring into the clear air. "Got my eye on a nice piece o' land on the Chateau road," he replied with assumed nonchalance.

Michaela swallowed, recalling a conversation she'd had a couple of months before. "Ah .. Hank ... this doesn't have anything to do with Myra does it?" she asked with concern.

"That aint none o' your business Michaela ... ya just never know when ta keep ya mouth shut do ya?"

"I'm sorry if it sounds like I'm interfering ... only I wouldn't set my heart on courting Myra if I was you ...," she cautioned. "Its just that ... well ... its just ...."

"She don' think o' me that way ...," concluded Hank. He gave her a wry smile. "Figured that out months ago ... but her an' Samantha are livin' in that tiny room out back o' the Chateau ... a kid needs room ta play ..."

"So you're going to build her a house? ..."

"Well ... it'll be my house ... but I figure it'll be a long time yet before I need ta retire ... they can use it til then," he said with a grin.

Michaela shook her head. "Hank ... you never cease to amaze me," she exclaimed. She glanced across to where several people were beginning to regard them with interest. "Come on ... we better go back to the others," she said quickly. "But will you tell Myrna for me that I wish her all the best ... and I'd love to hear from her ... that she's safe and well ..."

He nodded. "I'll tell her," he rejoined. He too directed his gaze to the café tables. "Looks like people are wonderin' what we're up to," he added with a grin. "Oughta take ya inta my arms ... that'd shake 'em up ..."

Startled, Michaela quickly looked up onto his eyes, and then, still unsure of his teasing, scurried back to her family and friends before he could carry out his threat.

*******************
"You an' Hank talked for a long time," remarked Sully, as he steered the wagon towards home.

"Mmmm," she replied, having been lost in thought. "Myrna's leaving tomorrow ... I hope no-one wonders about her bruises ..."

"No-one'll even notice her," he assured her. "She'll just be part o' the crowd at the train station ..."

"I suppose so," she rejoined hopefully. She rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm so glad this is all just about over. I know we'll still have to deal with Miriam at some time ... but, as I told Hank, I feel like the cloud that was hanging over me has lifted."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. "Time ta get on with our lives," he said sincerely. "Like Dorothy said ... we got a weddin' ta look forward to ..."

"Mmm ... its going to be wonderful ... and of course we can help them move into their new homestead ... I haven't had a chance to see it finished Sully ... how does it look?"

"Looks pretty good ta me ... I know Matthew an' Kathleen are real proud o' it ... that's what matters ..."

"And you helped ...," she stated proudly.

"Not as much as I'da liked ..."

She suddenly looked up into his eyes, a mischievous smile on her face. "I found out today why Hank's been helping the two of you out there ..."

"Ya did?" he asked with surprise. "Why *was* he helpin'? Told ya all along he wanted somethin' ..."

"Well ... you were right," she said with a grin. "Now he'd like *your* help."

"With what?" asked Sully in puzzlement. "I aint gonna do any work on the Nugget ... you know how I feel about that ..."

"Oh I think you'll help him with this ... and it has nothing at all to do with the Gold Nugget ..."

Sully frowned. "It don'?" She shook her head. "Then what *does* he want me ta do?"

Michaela chuckled and drew his hand forward over her shoulder so she could clasp it lovingly. "I don't think I'll tell you," she teased. "Well ... at least not yet ... I'll leave you guessing ..."

"Oh you will huh?"

"Mmmm ... perhaps you can think of a way to entice it out of me later."